


Unto Death

by MaverikLoki



Series: Abaddon [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Angst, General Creepiness, Hurt/Comfort, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Slash, Snark, Violence, vague Loki/Thor for like two seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-05 12:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaverikLoki/pseuds/MaverikLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki finds out where his former captor, the so-called "Abaddon", came from and uncovers something even more sinister in the process. Thor is close at hand to make sure Loki doesn't go too far. Sequel to Abaddon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to my fic _Abaddon_. To recap, Loki was kidnapped by a faceless mutant dude who called himself “Abaddon”. Thor found out, smashed Abaddon to bits, and nursed Loki back to health in the Stark Mansion. Much angst ensued. The end.
> 
> Time to wring out some more Loki!angst.

“Stop fidgeting.”

Thor shot a look at Tony but said nothing, sighing and forcing his hands to drop to his sides instead of pulling at the collar and sleeves of his borrowed uniform. This “business attire”, as Tony called it, was uncomfortable in more ways than he could count.

Tony returned the look with a sigh that all but said, I told you you should have stayed at the mansion. 

And he was probably right. Subterfuge had never been Thor's forte, and, truth be told, this was Tony's business and not his. 

The government had asked for Mr. Stark's expertise in refining a new specie of weapon that the inventors themselves described as “still kind of glitchy”, and, really, Thor was worse than useless there.

But Thor had seen the photos of the prototype of this so-called “weapon”. It was not a sword or a gun or a missile or anything that Thor would file under that category. It was a man.

A man without a face.

All the Valkyries in Asgard could not keep him at the mansion after that.

Tony had been passing off Thor as his new, Norwegian assistant who barely spoke English. All Thor had to do, Tony instructed, was to smile uncomprehendingly each time someone spoke to him. With all the scientific jargon being thrown around, it was not that much of a stretch.

After a few more words, the head scientist – a thin, nervous man with glasses and a lab-coat – offered to let them view their newest prototype and turned to walk with brisk steps down the corridor. Tony followed the scientist, and Thor followed Tony.

“How are you holding up?” Tony whispered to his friend.

Thor sighed and pulled at his collar again. “This does not feel right without the weight of Mjolnir in my hand,” he muttered.

“You know,” Tony sighed. “You really need to get out more.”

Thor shot his friend a half-hearted glare as they walked but decided not to respond to that. “What have you learned?” he asked.

Tony blew out a heavy breath. “The weapon's last 'prototype' was Abaddon, without a doubt.”

Thor instinctively gripped the air where Mjolnir would sit. Just the mention of that creature summoned images of his brother covered in blood, pale and trembling, green eyes wide and unseeing. It made Thor want to retrieve Abaddon from the land of the dead so that he could destroy the creature all over again.

“We cannot let this continue,” Thor growled.

Tony placed a hand on Thor's arm and gave his friend a warning look. “Get angry later,” he hissed. “Right now, we're just gathering information. There are warehouses full of the creatures, and we need to find out where.”

Thor's mind reeled for a moment at the thought of all those Abaddons lined up and ready to march.

The scientist led them into a laboratory that rivaled the main hall of the Asgard palace in size. The air was thick with the sharp smell of chemicals and smoke and the hair-raising stench of burnt skin.

“Don't touch anything,” Tony muttered when he caught Thor staring in awe at the mess of tubing and glass that surrounded them. Thor was careful to keep his distance from the more fragile-looking pieces of equipment.

Eventually Thor's eyes fell on the center of the room, where a face-less creature lay sprawled, doll-like, across a metal slab. There were subtle differences: the creature was slighter and of more graceful proportions, and the synthetic “skin” was more flesh-colored instead of the pasty white Thor remembered. Still, one look at that face, and all Thor saw was Abaddon. 

Tony gripped his shoulder, and Thor forced himself to relax, slowing prying his fingers out of the fists they had unconsciously formed.

“Homo Ultimus,” the scientist excitedly informed them, “the next step in weapons evolution!”

Tony and Thor exchanged glances, but the Thunderer knew to leave this to his friend.

“You are aware, I hope, Dr. Sven,” Tony said with a smile that Thor knew meant danger, “that your 'next step' is responsible for the torture and brutal murder of hundreds of people?”

The giddy smile slid from Sven's face. He fiddled nervously with his clipboard. “That is why I say it is still glitchy, Mr. Stark... and why I hope you will help us refine the Ultimi.”

“Glitchy, he says,” Tony muttered around a dry laugh. “I want this project shut down or there will be hell to pay.”

 

Minutes later, as he and Thor were being manhandled back outside, Tony reflected that his threat would have held more weight coming from the inside of his iron suit. Next to him, Thor muttered something about how he should have brought Mjolnir after all. Tony's warning look told him that now was not the time to get violent, so the two men allowed themselves to be dragged back through the door and thrown face-first into the dirt.

“Well,” Tony sighed as he rose to his feet, casually dusting himself off, “that didn't quite go as planned.” At Thor's look, Tony shrugged and said, “What? Stark Enterprises funds these sorts of projects. I thought the threat of de-funding would have scared them silly.”

“They must have found the necessary 'funds' from elsewhere,” Thor grumbled as he clambered to his feet.

“Great,” Tony mumbled. “Now I'm becoming obsolete.”

“That's hardly news,” a third voice chimed in. Tony and Thor turned to see one of Sven's lab-coat-wearing underlings smirking at them as he changed into –

“Loki,” Tony groaned.

“Brother,” Thor said guardedly. “Why are you here?”

“I should think that obvious,” Loki said with a tight smile, indicating the compound with the barest tilt of his head. “Oh, and you might want to step back a few paces.”

Thor leveled a narrowed glare at his brother, but Tony took the prescribed steps backward anyway. “Why?” Thor all but growled.

The next moment, the earth rumbled under their feet and an explosion of light and sound temporarily rendered them deaf and blind. When the earth stopped trembling and the light and deafening roar dissipated, Thor and Tony turned to see charred earth where the compound used to be. As one their jaws fell.

“That's why,” Loki sighed.

Thor reacted first, grabbing Loki by the lapels and shoving him back against the nearest tree. “There were people in there!” he shouted, face red and eyes wide in anger.

Loki stared calmly, coldly back at his brother, remarkably composed for someone currently dangling in the air. “The destruction of one Ultimus saved more lives than were lost in the explosion,” he said matter-of-factly. “Those humans could not live to make more.”

Thor growled and threw his brother to the ground, turning to pace in wide circles like an angry jungle cat.

“There are other Ultimi, you know,” Tony said, “scattered throughout the country.”

“I know,” Loki replied as he pulled himself to his feet. He made a show of dusting himself off and pulling blades of grass out of his clothes, but Tony suspected it was just so he could avoid eye-contact. “That is why I... require your assistance.”

Tony rolled his eyes. He couldn't just say, I need your help, like a normal person?

“You want us to help you blow up more buildings?” Tony asked dryly. 

Loki finally looked him in the eye at that, and Tony thought he saw the barest hint of madness, of desperation, there. “I want the Ultimi destroyed,” Loki said. “Help me do this and, if you come up with... less destructive means, I might listen.”

“'Might',” Tony echoed in a grumble. “That's so reassuring, especially coming from you.”

Loki shot him a narrowed glare. “Next time I could make sure you're in the building I blow up.”

Tony started to say something scathing, but Thor's hand on his shoulder made him bite his tongue.

“Enough, you two,” Thor sighed. His lips were still pursed in anger, but he kept his temper in check. “We will help you, Loki.”

“We will?” Tony cut a glare at Thor.

“But,” Thor continued, tightening his grip on Tony's shoulder for a moment, “you do not leave my sight. Understood?”

Loki rolled his eyes and shrugged one shoulder. “Fine.”

Tony knew as well as Thor that Loki would rescind on that promise the moment it became inconvenient. Still... at least this way they could keep an eye on Loki for a while and keep him from blowing up an orphanage or whatever.

It made him wonder why Loki wanted their help.

Loki grinned and clapped his hands together. “So!” he exclaimed. “To the Bat Cave!”

Tony and Thor stared at the Trickster for a long moment.

“What?” Loki asked. “Well, what do you say then?”

“I say, 'Shut up so we can get going',” Tony sighed. “Just don't touch my underwear this time.”

Tony turned on his heel, knowing that Loki would follow, looking altogether far too smug.


	2. Trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are interested, “Abaddon” is the Hebrew word for “destroyer”. It is also the name assigned to one of Satan's underlings in the Book of Revelation. I was going to go with the Greek version of the name – Apollyon – but decided that “Abaddon” sounded more sinister.

“Whatever their shortcomings, these mortals have certainly redeemed themselves with this beverage they call 'coffee'.”

From the dark, puffy bags under his eyes, Tony surmised that Loki had not slept well the night before. Now he was on his fourth – fifth? – cup of coffee, and his hands were shaking from caffeine overdose, his smile just shy of manic, and his words spoken a little too quickly. At least now Tony knew that human drugs seemed to affect gods as well as humans. He would have to remember that.

Tony considered telling Loki to slow down, but a part of him wanted to see what would happen when the Trickster crashed. So he held his tongue and smirked into is own coffee – his first cup, thank you, and yes, he had already checked it for poison after seeing Loki in the kitchen ahead of him.

Tony, Loki, Thor, and Clint sat around the table, since it was Steve's turn to prepare breakfast. Loki had volunteered to cook, but no one had trusted him near their food, especially not when he was wearing that smirk. Minutes later the Captain appeared with plates of scrambled eggs and sausage, and Tony allowed himself to ignore, for one moment, that he was sitting across from an enemy.

Then Tony made the mistake of looking up and saw Loki staring right at him, his tongue doing things to a sausage that had to be illegal in at least ten states. Tony choked on a mouthful of eggs, and Clint had to smack him on the back to get the food to go back down the right pipe. Thor glanced at Tony and then looked askance at his little brother, who was now innocently chewing on a bite of sausage.

Tony prayed to any god _not_ related to these two that the Ultimi would be easy to find and destroy, so that he and Loki could go back to punching each other in the face. Tony glowered at Loki and, well – okay, _really_ – no man should have a tongue _that_ long. Next to him, it was Clint's turn to choke on his eggs. Tony wasn't sure he would ever be able to look at a sausage the same way again, let alone eat the one on his plate. 

Each time Thor looked up, Loki went back to eating like a normal person.

“So,” Tony sighed so he wouldn't have to eat anymore, “Clint and I found the first warehouse where they stored the Ultimi.” Loki's self-satisfied smirk faded into a look of intense interest. “After the... issues with their first prototype” – now Loki outright scowled – “the lab powered down the Ultimi they had already built and threw them and all their spare parts into what is, to all outward appearances, an abandoned warehouse. It would be simple enough to wipe out the building. We do not even need to be there.”

“I want to see it.”

The Avengers as one looked at Loki, their expressions reflecting varying mixes of surprise, confusion, and concern. The look Loki gave each of them brooked no argument.

Tony stared at Loki in bemusement. Even all these months later, was the God of Lies still looking for closure? Either way, Tony knew better than to go against Loki's wishes in this instance.

“Fine,” he said, and Loki replied with the barest of nods in thanks. 

After a pause, Loki looked up at Tony, his expression altogether far too innocent as he said, “Are you not going to eat your sausage, Tony? It's a good source of protein.”

This time Tony was sure he choked on vomit. Thor glanced back and forth between the two, looking extremely puzzled.

 

“You do not need to do this.”

Loki barely even blinked at his brother's words. “So you've told me. Twice, in fact.”

Thor stood at his side, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, while the other Avengers scurried through the building, rooting out the hobos that had called this dilapidated building their home. Tony had adamantly refused Loki's help in the matter, so now the Trickster stood alone with his brother, staring at the dusty, moth-eaten mess of sheets that obscured dozens – maybe even hundreds – of dormant Ultimi. In the wan light of Loki's magic, the sheets looked like ghosts.

Loki considered setting the building ablaze right then and there. With half a word, he could create an inferno to rival Muspelheim, swallowing whole the warehouse, the Ultimi, the hobos, the Avengers, and even Loki himself in one last whorl of chaos. He wanted to watch these abominations burn even if he had to burn with them.

“Loki.”

Thor's whisper brought Loki back to himself. He blinked, staring at the sheet in front of him, tented where a man's head would be. He could still turn around, he knew, and leave without ever seeing what lay beneath that piece of cloth.

But he needed to know. He needed to see.

So he reached up and pulled back the sheet without another thought.

Loki had to force himself to breathe when he found himself staring once again at the slab of white flesh that passed for an Ultimus face. In an instant he could hear Abaddon's voice, feel the press of Abaddon's fingertips against his throat.

“How does it see?” he asked in a strangled voice, morbidly fascinated despite it all. 

He reached up to touch the empty, faceless visage, but his hand stopped an inch away and began to tremble when he tried to will it forward. He could feel Abaddon staring at him, defying him to make that bit of contact. He forgot about Thor, and suddenly all he could hear was Abaddon's laughter in his ears.

The spell and the flash of green light startled Loki even as he reached for it, spearing Abaddon again and again until he had chopped the creature into tiny bits. A severed finger twitched, and Loki cast the spell again.

And again.

It took him a long while to register the weight of Thor's arms around his shoulders, pressing his back against his brother's chest. Loki dropped his hand and the spell. His breathing was loud and ragged in his own ears, drowning out his thundering pulse and the words Thor was whispering.

“It's all right,” his brother was saying over and over, keeping his voice low and soothing as though Loki were a frightened kitten.

Loki growled and tried to throw off Thor's arms, but his brother only tightened his grip.

“Loki,” Thor said in a warning tone, and Loki stilled, automatically obeying his big brother.

Loki stared out across the room, knowing that there were many more eyeless faces staring at him through moth-eaten sheets. Suddenly, Loki needed air.

“Get off me,” he grumbled as he finally threw off his brother's grip. 

Loki felt like he was burning, boiling alive from the inside out, and he made for the exit, first at a brisk walk and then at a run, stumbling through the door and into the sunlight so he could vomit into the grass. 

“Sausage not sitting well?”

Loki cut a glare at Tony, who stood waiting outside with Clint and Steve. He spat a few times to wash out the taste of bile, wiping his mouth on the corner of his cape. He made a note to himself to have it laundered later. 

Thor finally stumbled to a halt beside him as Loki peeled off his helmet. Loki ignored him and the concerned look in those blue eyes. The breeze felt wonderfully cool against his skin.

“Destroy it,” Loki said, his voice unusually thick. He tucked his helmet under his arm and started to walk away from the building.

“W-Well,” Tony stammered, “don't you think we should –?”

“ _Destroy it or I will_!” Loki shouted right in Tony's ear, loud and sudden enough to send each of the Avengers stumbling back a step. Loki breathed in harsh, shaky breaths, meeting each of their stares with a glare before stalking off again. 

The others followed, and not a minute later, Loki felt the ground shake in another explosion. He neither slowed nor turned back.


	3. Broken

Thor was extremely grateful for Tony Stark. Without him, the Avengers would not have a mansion to use as a second home, and Thor would not be able to use its training room to vent his frustrations.

Were he in Asgard, Thor would heft his hammer and venture off to Jotunheim to bash in some Giant skulls. In Midgard, however, the mortals tended to frown on that sort of thing. Thor was still scratching his head over the last – what was the word Tony had used? – "lawsuit" thrown his way.

In the training room, however, he could smash things to his heart's content, losing himself in the surge of adrenaline, the burn of exerted muscles, and the weight of Mjolnir in his hands. Here he could indulge his rage until it faded to bitterness.

With time, his swings slowed to a stop, and Thor paused to catch his breath, allowing himself to think, for a moment, about what had happened.

He and Loki had fought the entire way back to the mansion, shouting their throats raw. Loki's tongue had always been his weapon of choice, but his words had been particularly scathing. Thor could not remember the exact phrases – did not want to, really – but his chest felt tight with something between guilt and hurt.

Thor had left his brother in the hands of his friends before words could escalate into violence. It might not have been the wisest course of action, but Thor knew his temper well enough to know to distance himself from the source of his anger.

Thor sighed and wiped a hand over his face. He could have been – should have been – more tactful. There had been something decidedly broken about his brother's look when he had walked away, and Loki needed him, even if he was too proud to say it.

The anger had faded now, replaced by a sort of emptiness. He felt uncommonly drained.

_"Um, Thor?" Tony's voice crackled to life over the intercom._

"Yes, Tony?" Thor sighed. This probably had something to do with Loki.

_"Could you come deal with your brother? He keeps trying to stick his hand down my pants."_

"...pardon?"

_"I mean, he looks enough like a girl that I could just go with it, but I don't want him using magic to turn it green or something."_

"Tony," Thor growled.

_"Just get your ass out here."_

Thor shook his head, decidedly nonplussed, but obeyed. Once out in the hall, Thor found a wide-eyed Tony half-supporting, half-pushing away a swaying, grinning Loki. The situation became painfully clear.

"You're drunk," Thor sighed, and that set off more warning bells in his brain.

"He's all yours," Tony said, nudging Loki towards his brother before stalking off, grumbling, down the hall. Loki's grin grew a little more lopsided as he staggered into the wall. Thor caught him about the waist before he could think better of it.

"M'not drunk," Loki slurred, drawing out each syllable longer than necessary. "You're jus'... very, very sober."

Loki's madly grinning face was close enough for Thor to smell the alcohol on his breath.

Thor frowned worriedly. In Asgard, Loki only rarely partook of the mead and even then only in cautious, small doses. It was strange seeing Loki turn into a blathering idiot just like everyone else.

"Brother," Thor murmured. "Are you all right?"

Perhaps Loki was not as healed as Thor had hoped. It had been a few months since Abaddon; Loki had long since healed physically, but Thor had no idea how long it took someone to recover mentally from that sort of thing.

Suddenly Loki's earlier insults did not seem to matter.

For his part, Loki was alternately squinting and blinking owlishly, as though having a hard time focusing – which, when Thor thought about it, he probably was. That might explain why Loki's gaze seemed centered on his lips instead of his eyes.

Thor still held him upright, not trusting his brother to be able to stand, let alone walk, in his current state, and their faces were still uncomfortably close, so that their noses bumped together. Loki was unusually pliant in Thor's grip.

"You should not scowl so," Loki said, still staring at Thor's lips. Loki reached up a hand and traced the line of Thor's jaw. His touch was cool but not off-puttingly so. Thor stared down at his brother, nonplussed, and slowly Loki's gaze slid back up to meet the thunderer's eyes. "You know," Loki slurred, his expression growing suddenly serious, as though he were contemplating some deep, important issue, "your eyes are blue. Like, _so_ blue. They should name a crayon after your eyes!"

Thor blinked, still nonplussed. "You are really drunk," he said, now chewing his lip to bite back a smirk.

"And you," Loki replied, again with that goofy, lop-sided grin that made Thor smile, "are really... really..." Loki's brow furrowed as he trailed off. He scratched his head. "Wha' was I sayin'?"

Thor chuckled. "I think it's time for bed," he said, tightening his grip about Loki's waist and steering him down the corridor. Loki leaned on his brother as they walked, letting his head fall onto Thor's shoulder.

"Is that a proposition?" Loki asked, turning his head so that his chin rested on Thor's shoulder. He looked up at Thor with impossibly green eyes.

Thor's steps stuttered to a halt as he looked down to regard his brother. "Pardon?"

"Well... I know these humans have this weird thing against incest, but s'not technically incest since we're not technically related."

Thor had no words. In fact, his every train of thought had just been completely derailed.

"Anyway," Loki went on, oblivious to Thor's wide-eyed stare, "if we're gonna do it, le's jus'... well. I... um. Been pregnant too many times."

A furious blush consumed Thor's face, neck, and ears. "I... _what?_ "

This had to be one of Loki's pranks.

"Well, y'know, the whole 'hung like a horse' thing may _sound_ good, but really, getting screwed by an actual horse is not as fun as it sounds..."

Thor beat his palm against his forehead, trying to dispel the horrible, awkward mental images his brother was evoking.

"...I mean, with all the hooves and the neighing..."

"Loki!" Thor said in a strangled voice. By now his face felt like it was on fire. "Enough with the horse!"

Loki blinked up at him for a long moment. "Oh," he said. "Okay."

Thor sighed and shook his head, steering Loki down the hall again. Loki let his head fall onto his brother's shoulder again, and Thor found his lips twitching up in the barest of smiles. He rarely saw through Loki's armor like this, and he felt his heart swell with affection for his little brother, who seemed so young and vulnerable in that moment. It reminded him of Asgard and of happier, simpler days.

"So," Loki slurred, "are we having sex or not?"

Thor shut his eyes and prayed for patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Loki is a handsy, affectionate drunk. I may have had too much fun with this scene.


	4. Fires and Embers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um. This is where the tiny bit of Thorki comes into play, so... *awkward cough*
> 
> Warning for f-bombs, violence, some minor man-on-man stuff, and general Loki being Loki.

Thor followed Tony to the quinjet, his expression grim. Tony's sigh echoed strangely from within his helmet.

“You know all Hell's gonna break loose when he finds out, right?”

Thor nodded, his lips pursed in a thin line. “I shall deal with my brother,” he said. “You do what you have to do.”

Tony nodded and followed Steve into the jet, leaving Thor behind.

 

Loki groaned, grateful for the coolness of the bathroom tile against his cheek and temple. It helped to ease the pounding in his skull, though it still felt like his brain was trying to hammer its way through his forehead.

As he retched for the third time, Loki vowed that he would never drink again.

“Urrgh,” he gurgled, grimacing at down at the toilet bowl. “It's like being pregnant again.”

Not the best of memories, really. He had never exactly been “glowing” while carrying Sleipnir. Somehow, he felt, the extra limbs just made it worse.

Minutes later, a familiar shape blocked the light streaming through the door. Thor was trying to be quiet, which meant that he now walked with the subtlety of only one herd of elephants.

Loki sat back on his heels and tried to compose himself with as much dignity as one could kneeling on the bathroom floor. “Come to gloat?” he grumbled. Gods knew it was what _he_ would do. 

“Of course not,” Thor said even as he gave his brother a look that all but said, yeah, a little. He leaned against the door frame and scratched the stubble on his cheek, which Loki recognized as a nervous gesture. Sure, his pose was casual – too casual – but Loki knew his brother.

A million possibilities flit through Loki's mind, but his pulsing headache sent them skittering out of reach. Grimacing at the sour taste of bile in his mouth, Loki slid until he was sitting with his back to the wall, relieved, at least, that his stomach was starting to settle. 

Thor dropped to a sit at his side, and the two stared at the opposite wall as though it held the meaning of life. The silence stretched uncomfortably long.

It occurred to Loki that he should probably ask why Thor was there, but he didn't. Even after all that had passed between them, Loki couldn't envision his brother being anywhere else.

Thor was unusually fidgety, though, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against his arm. Loki rolled his head to the side to consider his brother, and Thor returned the glance but only sheepishly. He's hiding something, Loki realized, and he smirked. He was impressed despite himself that his brother was trying so hard to be devious, even if, as always, he failed rather miserably at it.

He did not ask what was plaguing Thor's conscience. It was far more interesting to watch him squirm.

Normally the prolonged silence would be grating on Loki's nerves by now, but the Trickster was far too tired to care one way or the other. Drinking himself into oblivion was the only way he could shut off the nightmares long enough to sleep. 

Loki was considering slinking into the kitchen to hunt for the Salvation of Midgard – coffee – when Thor finally spoke.

“We found another lab that was producing Ultimi,” he said, his tone casual but his words uncharacteristically hurried. “And a warehouse with the last of the previous batch.” 

It was like someone had tightened a vise around Loki's lungs.

“Where?” he asked. He cleared his throat when his voice sounded oddly strangled.

“The lab is nearby,” Thor answered, looking down at his callused hands. “The warehouse... does not matter.”

Loki's eyes narrowed. “Meaning?” he prompted, syllables clipped. 

Thor's gaze met his before skittering away again. Loki resisted the urge to throttle him.

“It means you don't need to worry about it,” he answered. “The others are taking care of it as we speak.” Thor finally returned Loki's stare fully, his gaze hardened in a warning.

Loki blinked once, twice as he processed those words, feeling white-hot rage itching just under his skin. “And what,” he asked, his voice threateningly soft, “does _that_ mean, exactly?” His lips quirked in a smile that did not reach his eyes.

Thor bristled at the dangerous edge skirting Loki's words. “It means that they are destroying it as we speak,” he answered, blue eyes hard as ice. “I thought it for the best that you keep your distance this time. These... vivid reminders are only hindering your recovery.”

Loki looked away, nodded and bit his lip until he felt a spike of pain. “I see,” he said, still with that manic grin. “Because coddling me like an invalid is far more conducive to my... 'recovery'.” 

He all but spat that last word in Thor's face before pulling himself to his feet, and Thor stared after him warily, standing as well. Loki clenched his shaking hands into fists, the edge of his vision burning red with anger. He was too furious to think clearly, his usually calm mask falling to pieces in the wake of this... this _betrayal_!

“Loki,” Thor said, softly, warily, holding his hands palm out as though to calm a skittish animal. “I'm just trying to help.”

Loki scoffed and turned to storm out, but Thor caught him by the elbow. Loki spun on his brother, throwing off his hand with a snarl. “ _Fuck you_ , Thor!” he shouted, the words bouncing tinnily off the ceramic-tiled walls. “ _FUCK. YOU_!”

Magic burned in Loki's veins, and the ground shook as he shouted, pipes groaning and bursting, spraying Thor with fetid water. Loki stormed out shaking with rage, his breathing loud and ragged in his ears as he stalked through the halls, obliterating windows and furniture in his wake.

Thor sputtered and grimaced at the foul-tasting water. “Loki!” he called, shaking the droplets from his face and hands. His only response was the distant sound of glass shattering. “Odin help me.” Thor blew out an exasperated sigh, wading through the now-flooded bathroom, stumbling into the hall and following the trail of destruction. He cringed at the sound of more glass shattering.

“Tony is going to kill me,” he groaned as he broke into a run, hoping to catch Loki before he started to blow up the staff.

The house's sleek, modern lines looked considerably less sleek when littered with giant, smoldering holes and debris. After dodging a couch careening towards his head, Thor roared and tackled his brother to the ground, getting rug-burn on his elbows in the process. Loki shrieked, clawed, and kicked like an angry cat, but Thor held him down, staring back into a pair of very wide, very angry green eyes.

“You need to calm down,” Thor said, careful to keep his voice soft but firm. He felt like he was dealing with a recalcitrant child. 

“Get. Off.”

Loki kneed his brother in the crotch and rolled away when Thor instinctively curled up into himself, face red and voice squeaking in a rather unmanly soprano. Loki smirked wen he saw his brother's eyes bulging wide in pain. Seeing the great Thor so diminished, if only for a second, sent a thrill of power up Loki's spine, and something vicious clicked into place.

Loki kicked Thor in the ribs and watched him curl into a tighter ball. “Fight me, then, if I'm so helpless,” Loki hissed through clenched teeth. “Since I can't even defend myself.” This time he kicked at Thor's face, watching, fascinated, as his head snapped back and his nose crunched inward with a spray of blood. Thor grunted and pulled back, glaring at Loki through blackening eyes.

Loki wanted to hurt something, hit something, break something. He couldn't stop.

… he was no better than Abaddon.

“Fight me,” Loki echoed, praying Thor did not hear his voice tremble.

_Stop me._

_Please._

Loki brought his foot back to kick Thor again, but his brother roared and pushed himself forward and up into Loki, until his back hit the wall with a painful crack. Through the sparks of pain, Loki felt a large, battle-scarred hand curl around his throat.

Thor growled and tightened his grip on Loki's windpipe, pressing him against the wall and squeezing, watching his face flush red and the veins on his forehead bulge out in stark relief. The Trickster could not draw in the breath to cast a spell or say anything snarky, but it took Thor a long moment to realize that Loki was grinning like a madman anyway. He had been baited on purpose.

Thor wrestled his temper back under control and let Loki fall to the ground in a coughing, sputtering heap. Why had Thor stopped? Loki wondered. It was no less than he deserved.

“You are enjoying this?” Thor hissed. “Why must you goad me so?”

Loki staggered to his feet, rubbing at his bruised throat and wheezing, his eyes still shining with that crazed light. “Because you are pathetic,” he rasped. He spat into Thor's face.

Thor grimaced and wiped away the spittle but forced his rising anger back down. His brother was not well, and he would not rise to the bait again.

“I will not hurt you, Loki,” he said. His brother gritted his teeth and snarled in frustration.

“Why not?” Loki growled. He drew his arm back to backhand Thor across the face, but the Thunderer caught his narrow wrist in a grip of steel and held it in the air between them. Loki's eyes widened in rage as he tried to jerk his arm free. “ _Punish_ me!” he shouted, pressing his face within inches of his brother's. “ _Hate_ me! _Hurt me_!”

Loki swung wildly with the other hand, but Thor caught that one as well. Thor pushed Loki back against the wall and pinned him there as the Trickster continued to struggle, kicking at Thor's shins and biting at his wrists.

“Enough!” Thor growled, pulling Loki forward before pushing him back against the wall, winding him. That manic fire returned to Loki's eyes as Thor pinned him with his weight. He struggled a bit more, and Thor tightened his grip automatically, knowing that Loki's wrists would have finger-shaped bruises to match the ones blooming on his throat.

Adrenaline set Thor's blood afire, and his heart pounded in his ears as he returned his brother's defiant stare. Loki's eyes looked unnaturally bright, unnaturally green, and they filled Thor's vision.

Cold lips mashed against his the next moment, and, without pausing to think, Thor reciprocated with all the fury of a thunderstorm. Mouths opened, and their teeth clashed like weapons on a different kind of battle field. Loki's tongue tasted like ice water against his.

They devoured each other, Thor pouring all the frustration and anger he harbored against his bother into the act, digging his fingers into Loki's wrists when the Trickster growled and bit his lip. The blood from Thor's broken nose smeared between them and painted their lips red, adding a metallic tang to Loki's taste.

Somewhere in the back of Thor's mind, something clicked into place. He would not realize it until later, but he knew now why Loki liked to goad and insult him; he had wanted his brother to lose control.

And he seemed to relish the pain, biting and clawing, tugging at clothes and hair just enough to sting, which, as Thor would not realize again until much, much later, was probably not a ringing endorsement for Loki's state of mind, considering the hideous torture he had been through recently. He would not make this connection until later, to his chagrin, but it was likely that Loki was aware of it even then.

Loki had spurned Thor's attempts at gentleness, at kindness, but this – this chaotic, dangerous thing – in a twisted way left him open and vulnerable.

Thor was always much slower than his brother in reaching these sort of profound conclusions, however, and, in the moment, all he could register was the raw and physical feel of the younger god pressed up against him, the cooler skin against his fevered flesh, and the growls rumbling in Loki's chest.

Thor's lungs began to burn, and he pulled away to gulp in air, dodging Loki's lips and holding him at enough of a distance to think clearly. Something close to guilt churned in his gut, though he was not sure why. Then he caught sight of the purple-black bruises encircling his brother's wrists and throat, the line of blood dripping from his bottom lip, and Thor drew back as though slapped, releasing Loki.

The green fire in Loki's eyes ebbed to embers, and there was something hollow about his expression as he slumped against the wall, keeping the distance between them. He shot a glare at Thor, but his heart did not seem in it.

Thor mentally kicked himself, feeling like no less of a monster than the Abaddon creature that had used and tormented Loki all those weeks ago.

“Loki,” Thor said softly, trying to convey everything he thought and felt in that moment through those two, familiar and cherished syllables. They had crossed some line, and he did not know what to say.

He reached up hesitantly to wipe the blood from his brother's chin, but Loki slapped his hand away before scowling and pushing past Thor, walking stiffly but briskly towards the exit.

Thor watched him go.

Sometime later – minutes or hours, he was not sure – the sound of heavy footsteps approached and stuttered to a halt just outside the room. Thor turned listlessly to regard the wide-eyed stares of his friends.

“ _Whaaa–?_ ” Tony shrieked, jaw flapping uselessly as he gestured about him in cutting gestures. “ _What the Hell happened in here?_ ”

Thor blinked and looked down at the debris, the bits of glass, and the huge Loki-shaped dent in the wall. He cringed and sighed.

“My brother and I... had a disagreement.” Thor gingerly pressed a hand to his swollen but healing nose as though to illustrate the point.

“I suspect he found out,” Steve said, eyeing Tony warily as he continued gesturing wildly. “Were you really expecting a less violent reaction?”

“To my _furniture_? _Yes_!” Tony ran a hand through his hair and frowned at the mess, shoulders slumping. “You,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger in Thor's direction, “are never baby-sitting again!”

“Speaking of baby-sitting,” Steve murmured, “where _is_ Loki?”

“I'll go find him,” Thor sighed. 

He turned to walk away from the others, hearing Tony curse and grumble, “Now would be a good time to conscript a hero with super-cleaning abilities.”

 

After hours of searching for Loki, scouring every last bit of the mansion he could think off, Thor gave up and returned to the chambers assigned to him, trying not to worry about his missing brother. Loki could make himself all but impossible to find when he wanted to. It was why he and Sif had always refused to play hide-and-seek with the Trickster.

And then Thor peeked into his closet and saw a thin, black cat with a familiar pair of green eyes curled up on top of Thor's red cloak. Thor chuckled lightly and crouched to be at eye-level with the cat. Green eyes regarded him listlessly before the cat turned away, curling into a tighter ball with its tail covering its face. Thor smiled and gently stroked back the sleek fur with the fingertips of one hand. The cat let out a soft sound, a cross between a growl and a whine.

“Don't growl at me, Loki,” Thor sighed, reaching up to scratch behind the cat's ears. “You're the one getting fur all over my cape.”

Thor settled into a more comfortable position on the floor, trying to remember the words he had rehearsed those hours he had spent looking for his brother. He decided to just focus on the important ones.

“Look, Loki,” he said. “I'm sorry.”

He ran his hand over the cat's soft fur again, and he could feel every rib and vertebra under his palm. Loki did not growl this time but neither did he acknowledge Thor in any way.

“No one can do everything alone, Loki,” Thor murmured. “It's why I joined the Avengers. I think you already know that or you wouldn't have asked for our help in the first place.”

Somehow this was easier to say to a cat, without Loki's expressive features making bored faces or his voice making snide comments. Instead, Thor had to guess at Loki's reaction.

“I've... never been good at this part,” Thor sighed. “At talking or reassuring. I didn't mean to imply that you are helpless; guarding you physically is the only thing I have to offer you. Tell me how to help you.”

A cat face disengaged from the ball of black fur and turned to look at him with sad, green eyes. Thor cupped Loki's cheek, and the cat nuzzled his hand before standing and slinking out of the closet, crawling into Thor's lap and staring up at him as if to say, “Why do you care so much?” Thor could read his brother's face in any form.

“Because I love you too much, you stubborn git,” Thor murmured.

Loki – the bastard – chose that moment to revert back to his usual form. Thor found his little brother sitting in his lap, long legs straddling his waist and their faces inches apart. Those green eyes twinkled with mischief at Thor's wide-eyed expression.

“I think I preferred you as a cat,” Thor sighed. Loki made a fake purring sound and nuzzled Thor's stubbly cheek until the Thunderer chuckled.

Thor wrapped his arms around his little brother, face buried in the crook of his neck, and he could feel every rib and vertebra in this form too. Loki had not been eating well, he realized. Or sleeping. 

“You need to let this go,” Thor said softly at his brother's ear, “before it consumes you.”

Loki pulled away at those words, cringing, and he drew himself to his feet. Thor followed, regretting his words and the new distance between them. He held his breath, fearing Loki would begin ranting and raving again, but instead Loki sighed.

“I can't,” he said, staring down at Thor's feet. “I just... I can't.” His green eyes were bright with the threat of tears as his voice faded off into a tremulous whisper.

Thor put his hands on Loki's shoulders and watched, terrified, fascinated, as his brother crumbled before his eyes. Loki was not supposed to unravel like this. He may be small but he was tough, with a mind like a blade and a will like iron. 

Loki bowed his head, breathing in harsh, sobbing gulps of air. Thor could not see his face but felt him shaking.

He was not so much made of iron, Thor realized then, as he was made of ice, all hard, sharp edges, but brittle and so, so fragile. Thor tightened his grip as though that alone were holding his brother together.

“Loki,” he said softly. Thor's arms encircled his brother, and he cursed Abaddon for leaving Loki so raw and broken. He was a frustrating, smart-mouthed, selfish little prat, but – by Odin – he was Thor's frustrating, smart-mouthed, selfish little prat. 

He was surprised but relieved when, instead of snarling and pushing away, Loki leaned into his touch and pressed his face to Thor's chest, clinging to him with all his strength. 

Made of ice, Thor mused. Perhaps he had thawed a little?


	5. Decisions

Even without the threat of nightmares, Loki did not find any sleep that night. The gears of his mind clicked and whirred behind his closed eyelids as he recounted every detail of that day, assessing and reassessing his every word and action. There were so many trivial – _important_ – things that he could have done differently.

He had been angry – justifiably so – and that anger had needed an outlet. Time and again, Thor had served as that outlet, as the lightning rod for his wrath, Loki's physical, magical, and verbal punching bag. Without Thor, Loki's destructive mood would have exploded outwards and inwards, tearing himself and his world apart, but Thor, being the pathetically altruistic martyr that he was, had saved him from himself.

Loki had needed some form of comfort then. That need had frightened and confused him, so he had warped that need into something he understood, something base and sexual. It was the only kind of physical contact other than violence that he was willing to seek. He wanted it to hurt, to feel like a punishment.

When Thor had pulled away, it had felt like a rejection. He had felt like a child then, small, alone, and exposed, and all he had wanted to do was hide, curl up in a small, dark hole, and wallow in self-pity. He had done exactly that.

And when Thor had found him later, well... he still wasn't sure what had happened, and he certainly did not want to think about it. All he knew was that he was growing far too dependent on his brother.

It was as Loki lay awake, watching the shadows stretch and curl along the ceiling, that the idea came to him. It would be simple enough for him to find the nearby lab that was currently producing Ultimi, and the Avengers' help had so far been proven superfluous. He could wipe out the last of the Ultimi with his bare hands and regain a measure of his independence.

It was hardly like he would be getting any sleep anyway.

 

Thor laid back on his bed, idly twirling his hammer and watching as the morning sun glinted off its metal edges. He felt oddly homesick, in that moment, thinking of Asgard. Whenever he was troubled, he would talk to Sif, who always spoke plainly but wisely, and he wished that he could talk to her now about Loki. He loved his brother but was as far away as ever from understanding him, but Sif, he thought, would steer him in the right direction.

Yet going to Asgard, even if only for a short visit, was unfortunately out of the question while there were still Ultimi in existence, and, admirable in battle though they were, Thor was not about to trust advice from Steve or Tony on this issue. He thought of Pepper then, Tony's personal assistant, who was headstrong and intelligent in a way that reminded him of Sif. Maybe he could talk to her; she was far better than Tony at this sort of thing and had proven herself to be honorable and trustworthy in Thor's eyes.

Thor found Pepper sitting on a couch in the downstairs living room, her hair tied back in a bun and her fingers skittering like spiders' legs over the keyboard of her laptop. Thor sat on the other side of the couch, decidedly not squirming, thank you. The computer light gave Pepper's face a ghostly glow and made it hard for Thor to read her expression, but she stopped typing and looked at him as he sat down, smiling politely in a way that all but said, "What do you want?"

"I would speak with you, Ms. Potts," Thor told her, "if you have the time."

Pepper sighed and dropped her hands into her lap. "If this is about the leak in the upstairs bathroom, I'm already on it."

"No, no," Thor replied. He was not sure how to properly broach the subject. He wished this was something he could fix by smashing it with Mjolnir, but he supposed that that kind of thinking was what made this so difficult to begin with. "I merely... wished to talk about something of a more personal nature, and I... well, just consider the alternatives."

Pepper stared at him for a moment before, Thor surmised, thinking about his last statement and chuckling under her breath. "Ah yes, I see," she sighed. "I don't know about the others, but Tony would probably just make things worse. But what about your brother?"

"He's... what I need to talk about."

"Oh."

"Verily."

"Well," Pepper sighed and shrugged. "I'm not sure how exactly I'll be able to help, but I'll try. Shoot."

"Hey, guys!" Tony chose that moment to walk in, armored feet making heavy, metallic clunking sounds and his helmet under his arm. He smiled tiredly and wiped the sweat from his brow with his free hand, plopping into a nearby chair with a gusty, relieved sigh.

Pepper and Thor exchanged sidelong glances before staring at Tony, hoping that he would sense the awkward pause and realize that he was intruding. He just smiled back at them and winked lasciviously at Pepper, oblivious.

Thor decided to go for broke, turning to Pepper and saying, "I made out with Loki."

"Oookay!" Tony pushed off the chair and walked right back out the door.

For her part, Pepper just stared at Thor. She made as though to say something before closing her mouth with an audible click and rubbing her forehead as though to dispel a headache. "I thought he was your brother," she said finally in a strangled voice.

"Hmm?" Thor grunted. "Oh, yes, well. We are step-brothers, yes, but this – what was the word you mortals use? – 'incest' is not really taboo in Asgard. Our numbers are too few for that sort of thing to matter." Thor paused to consider. He had never been attracted to men – he still wasn't – and he did not know why he had reciprocated when Loki had kissed him or even _why_ Loki had kissed him. "And... between two men, it's... frowned upon but not unheard of," Thor continued distractedly. "Loki always did have a reputation for –"

"Don't need the details!" Pepper said, gesturing vehemently for Thor to stop speaking. "Just... okay, so then what's the problem?"

"The problem is, it's Loki!" Tony's voice shouted from the hall.

Thor opened his mouth to say something, only to shrug and nod. Pepper blew out a sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"How do I get myself into these situations?" she muttered, shaking her head. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but do you care about him?"

"He's family," Thor said. "I love him, but I'm not _in_ love with him, I don't think."

Thor ran a hand through his hair, looking at her with desperation in his eyes. He then described the events of the previous night, Loki goading him, pushing him, and then...

He left out the aftermath and Loki's ensuing breakdown. Somehow, he felt, that moment had been far more personal than their violent lip-lock.

"What do I do?" Thor murmured. He had no idea where to go from here or what he ought to expect from Loki.

Not that he ever knew what to expect from Loki, but... well. That was the crux of the problem, he supposed.

"He sees you as a brother," Pepper said, frowning down at her laptop and tapping one painted nail against the mouse button. Thor suspected that she was just trying to avoid eye-contact. "Issues of incest aside, this whole thing is not healthy for his state of mind."

"What do you mean?" Thor asked, though his gut told him she was right.

"You realize that the only physical contact Loki allows is either violent or sexual? That's worrisome on its own, but it's downright alarming from someone who went through torture not that long ago."

"He's resilient," Thor said, more to reassure himself.

"Thor," Pepper sighed. "Listen to me. If you care about him, you'll keep things brotherly between you. Nothing good could come from anything else."

Thor sighed and wiped a hand over his eyes. A part of him wondered, however, about that moment he had not shared, when he had enfolded a sobbing Loki in his arms. Thor had to wonder – had to hope – that this was a sign that his little brother was healing.

"Thank you," Thor told Pepper, hoping she knew how much he genuinely meant that. She smiled wanly, and Thor rose from the couch, letting her return to work. In the interim, it was time Thor spoke to Loki.

But when he went to his brother's room, it was to find Loki gone.


	6. Morning

Loki found the building empty, the pale morning light casting long shadows across the hallway's linoleum floor. With half a word, the Trickster silenced the echoing click of his boots but could do nothing to dull the throb of his heartbeat in his ears. Unlike the warehouses, this was a government building still up and running; there should be personnel lurking here at all hours.

It was his first clue that there was something terribly wrong.

Perhaps he had been foolish to come here alone? No. No, Loki had long been used to doing things on his own. If he ever wanted to be his old self again, this was something he would have to face.

Loki gritted his teeth and walked faster, down the hall and to a flight of stairs that he knew led into the Ultimi lab. An Ultimus was the sort of thing the government would want to keep from windows, passers-by, and all potential prying eyes. The layout had not allowed for magic scrying, however, or for someone as well-versed in secrecy as Loki.

Lights flickered to life overhead as Loki descended, one hand ghosting over the railing in case his suddenly shaky legs failed him. The shadows deepened where the light did not reach.

“Are you still asleep, Thor?” Loki murmured to himself, hoping to distract his nerves with the sound of his voice. “Still snoring into your pillow?” The image conjured the ghost of a smile. 

Loki threw open the door to the lab, a spell on the edge of his lips as his glance darted to all corners of the underground room, which was easily the size of a football field. He waited for the overhead lights to flicker on in rapid succession, like dominoes.

The room was empty, tables and cabinets wiped clean of equipment, metal surfaces glinting in the artificial light. 

“What?” Loki breathed. He had expected a lab like the one he had destroyed before joining forces with the Avengers, bustling with life and voices and calculations, cluttered with high-end equipment and stinking of chemicals, Ultimus parts scattered like puzzle pieces.

Loki walked into the room, absently letting the door fall closed behind him. Was he in the wrong room?

A quick spell confirmed that he wasn't.

And then he saw it. In the corner, a laptop was perched open on a table, screen innocently blank and a green light flashing in the corner. Loki pursed his lips and approached the lone piece of technology, scanning it with his magic multiple times before daring to touch it. 

He pressed a key at random, and the screen flickered to life at the touch. A scruffy human with a double chin and cold gray eyes stared through the screen, lips quirked in a condescending smile.

“Hello, Avengers,” the man said through the computer. Loki's eyes narrowed; this had to be a recording, which meant that he – or at least the Avengers – had been expected. His blood ran cold as he wondered: where were the last of the Ultimi? “We have been following your recent progress with great interest, but I'm afraid that stops here. All models of the Homo Ultimus variety are registered weapons belonging to the United States government, and we can do nothing but treat your repeated targeting of these weapons as an act of war. Such extreme action cannot go without retaliation.”

The hair on the back of Loki's neck prickled, and the Trickster suspected that he was not alone. He glanced down at the metal table, at his warped reflection and the warped reflection of the humanoid creature suddenly standing only a few paces behind him. Loki reached for his magic.

“Which is why, I'm afraid,” the man in the computer continued, “that we are going to need to test this new brand of Ultimus sooner than planned. The remaining Ultimi were set to go on the moment you entered this room. You should find a small army waiting for you back at the mansion.”

Loki heard the words but did not have time to register them. He snapped about, pressing his palm against the chest of the straggling Ultimus and watching as spikes of ice shot from his fingertips and froze his enemy mid-stride. Loki stared into the blank face of the Ultimus, barely an inch from his nose, and staggered back a step, skin hot and clammy with the threat of nausea. A thick sheen of ice had turned the Ultimus into a living popsicle, and Loki let out a nervous, shuddering laugh at the thought.

He could imagine, for the briefest, sweetest moment, that this was Abaddon in front of him, still and helpless and completely at his mercy. Too bad Loki had none.

His nervous smile faded as he remembered Abaddon's propensity for illusion and realized just what these humans had created.

“They made you intelligent, strong, and able to blend in anywhere at anytime,” Loki murmured to the Ultimus. “They just didn't think to give you a conscience.”

This creation had been based on _him._

With a hoarse, inarticulate shout, Loki dropped the ceiling on the lone Ultimus, pummeling it with stone and steel until it shattered into tiny, frozen fragments and until those fragments shattered into grains of dust. Shielded from the destruction, all Loki wanted to do was sit down amidst the ruins and lament the wasted seconds of his life, but before he could, the words of the computer message flit back to him.

_You should find a small army waiting for you back at the mansion._

Loki screwed his eyes shut, ignoring the tears that froze halfway down his cheeks. 

“Dammit,” he groaned.

He could just leave the Avengers to fend for themselves. They would be fine without him but...

There was something he had to do first.

Loki turned back to the laptop, which remained perfectly intact within the bubble of his shield, and began to run long fingers over the keyboard.

 

Thor found Loki's room empty, but breathed out a sigh of relief when he turned to see his brother standing in the hallway.

“Good morning, brother,” Loki said, his smile far too innocent. The morning light softened and blurred the edges of his features, exaggerating the contrast between dark hair, pale skin, and green eyes.

“You startled me,” Thor sighed, though he supposed that had been the point. “Where were you?”

“That does not matter,” Loki replied, waving aside Thor's question with a flippant gesture. “What matters is that there are intruders in the mansion.” Loki said this as though he were discussing the weather, pausing to examine his fingernails.

“What?” Thor roared, fingers itching to grasp Mjolnir. The hammer flew to him as though reading his thoughts.

“Intruders,” Loki repeated blithely, barely even flinching at the speeding hammer. “In the mansion.”

Thor prepared to charge head first into danger, only to remember that he did not know where said “danger” currently was.

“Where?” Thor growled, hefting Mjolnir. “And who're the intruders?”

“I'm not sure,” Loki sighed, “and a bunch of Ultimi.”

Thor stared at Loki for a long moment, taken aback by the ease with which he said the name. He had always spoken of the Ultimi casually – _too_ casually – but there was always the barest tightening around the corners of his eyes and in the muscles of his jaw that belied the act. His blasé attitude towards the aberrations was, for once, the truth, but he did not have time to ponder what that meant.

“We should find Tony,” he said. As the mansion's owner, he knew this house inside and out.

Thor heard Loki hum an affirmative, trailing behind as he marched down the hall in the general direction of Tony's chambers. 

He did not expect the heavy blow that cracked against the back of his skull.


	7. Double Time

The floor felt cold against Thor's cheek. Pain throbbed through his skull, pulsing outward from the back of his head. Blood trickled down his neck, warm and sticky, and the hallway tilted at irregular angles as Thor groaned and pushed himself into a sit, leaning against the wall and swallowing down nausea.

Something was not right, he knew distantly. There were shouts and the blur of movement in front of him, and when he looked up, it was to realize that he was seeing double.

“Loki?” he grunted. A pair of identical pale faces wearing identical helmets glanced down at him before turning back to glare at each other.

Wait... if he was seeing double, they should be looking in the _same_ direction, right?

His head hurt.

“I don't know whether to be insulted or flattered,” said the Loki on the left, the one standing closest to him. Had Loki summoned one of his clones? Thor squinted at both faces and realized that the one on the right had smoother skin, a straighter nose, and brighter eyes. Was that the clone, or was Loki messing with his head again? “I can understand wanting to look like me, but this is a bit much.”

“What are you talking about?” snapped the Loki on the right. “ _I'm_ the one who should be suing you for copyright infringement!”

“...what does that even mean?”

“What in Hel's name is going on?” Thor growled. He was already feeling dizzy without Loki arguing with himself.

“He's an Ultimus!” both Lokis said at once, with identical voices, identical looks of indignation, and identical fingers pointing accusingly at the other.

Thor blinked, once, twice. “Huh?” he grunted. “Ultimi don't even _have_ faces, let alone yours.”

Both Lokis stared at him like he had the IQ of a gnat before face-palming simultaneously.

“They're shapeshifters, Thor,” said the Loki on the left. He eyed the other Loki suspiciously as he spoke. “The blank faces act as an 'empty slate', as it were.”

Something clicked into place in the back of Thor's mind, but a white-hot throb of pain sent any intelligent thoughts skittering away. He closed his eyes against a wave of dizziness and tried to will his head into healing faster.

There was a sound like a low hum that he could feel in his bones, and, even with his eyes closed, Thor could see the flash of light through his eyelids. He looked up, eyes wide, and the air simmered with the charge of magic, wavering like heat rising off pavement. He looked at the Loki on his left, who was now a few yards away, rising from the ground with a pained grunt. Smoke rose from charred holes in his cloak. 

When Thor turned to the other Loki, he saw the image of his brother flicker. For the tiniest fraction of a second, Thor saw the faceless visage underneath, the pale slab of flesh, and he was on his feet with Mjolnir in his hand and a roar on his lips before he could even consider what this meant.

Green eyes wide in surprise filled his vision, and Mjolnir connected with a crack of bones and the crackle of thunder. 

Thor wobbled dizzily for a moment, but when the red haze of anger and pain subsided, he found that he could see more clearly. He put a hand to the back of his head and discovered that the wound had closed over, and he breathed a prayer of thanks for his advanced, Asgardian healing. 

The Ultimus posing as Loki was now imbedded in the far wall, and there were skid marks in the floor like twin furrows. The creature now actually _looked_ like an Ultimus – one of the newer models Dr. Sven had been working on – except that its blank, slab-like face had a Mjolnir-shaped dent, revealing cogs and wires damaged beyond repair. Its fingers twitched a few times before falling limp. 

“Well,” the other Loki said wryly, “that was certainly... decisive.”

Thor turned to regard his brother, who was rubbing his shoulder and smiling through a wince. Thor eyed this second Loki, keeping Mjolnir ready in case this was another Ultimus trick. 

“You saved my life,” Thor said, only realizing it as he spoke the words. He had turned his back to an Ultimus, whom he had mistaken for Loki and who likely had all sorts of dastardly things planned. This other Loki, real or not, had defended him. Thor relaxed his white-knuckled grip on Mjolnir, expression softening.

Loki grimaced as though he had just eaten something foul, expressive eyes looking everywhere but at his brother. “Yes, yes, I know. Heroics are not my thing.” 

He looked thoughtfully at Thor for a long moment before shrugging and backhanding his brother across the face.

Thor's ears rang. “ _Ow_!” he shrieked, cupping his smarting jaw. “What was _that_ for?”

“Mm, yes. That's better,” Loki said, smirking and shaking out his sore hand. “I feel much more villainous now. Shall we proceed?”

Well. The person before him was certainly acting like Loki, but then again so had the Ultimus. 

 

The brothers trotted side by side in the direction of Tony's chambers. Loki was careful to keep his expression casual, bored even, while reaching for his magic just in case. He knew this was the real Thor since he had all those little imperfections that the Ultimi seemed to miss and since he could sense no magic around the familiar face, but Thor could not sense magic the way that he could.

“So,” Thor sighed, “in addition to everything else, the Ultimi are shapeshifters as well?” He was still eyeing Loki suspiciously, and the Trickster sighed, wishing he had been this leery a few minutes ago when it had counted. Loki was not about to resurrect his sorry ass if Thor decided to die on him like that, after all.

“Yes,” Loki answered tersely. “And exceptionally good mimics. How do you think Abaddon captured me in the first place?”

One of these days, he would not stumble over that name.

Thor frowned at his brother, brows knit in thought. “What form did Abaddon take?”

Images of Abaddon wearing Thor's face flashed through Loki's mind. The Ultimus had exaggerated the coloring, making the blue eyes bluer and the blonde hair blonder, and the outline of the face had been slightly blurred, like an apparition.

“Never you mind,” Loki snapped, lengthening his stride to pull ahead of his brother. How had Abaddon known his weakness in the first place?

“Wait,” Thor growled. He grabbed Loki by the shoulder and spun him about, glaring through narrowed eyes. “How do I even know you're the real Loki? Tell me something only my brother would know.” 

Loki blew out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes. He supposed this was unavoidable. “I was impregnated by a horse?” he tried, shrugging.

Thor shook his head, dissatisfied. “No, everyone knows that.”

“I, er... okay.” Loki decided he would be insulted by that later. “How about that one time I made you wear a dress?” He smirked. “Or does everyone already know that?”

“They do now.”

The brothers glanced over their shoulders to find a flustered-looking Tony approaching them, eyes wild and dark hair askew.

“Hello,” Loki said brightly. Tony looked askance at his too-wide smile.

“Anyone know what the heck is going on?” the human groused.

“There are Ultimi in the mansion,” Thor informed him. “And apparently they have the ability to shapeshift.”

“Ah,” Tony replied, brow smoothing over in wake of this revelation. “Well, that explains why Steve...” He stopped short, eyes widening before he looked away sheepishly. “Never mind.”

Loki arched an eyebrow, but Thor cut off any snide remark he could have made.

“Wait!” He pointed Mjolnir threateningly at his friend, who stared at him with wide eyes. “How do we know you're the real Tony?”

Tony looked at him like he was crazy, only to shake his head and say, “Um, well, Tuesday night I had a dream I wearing green spandex?”

Loki glanced at Thor who shrugged and nodded, easing his stance and lowering Mjolnir.

“Spandex, huh?” Loki teased, smirking and arching an eyebrow. “Green is so not your color.”

Tony glowered at him. “You think you have a monopoly on green?” he snarked, gesturing vaguely at Loki's armor. “At least I could pull off the spandex.”

Loki huffed and rolled his eyes as Tony began flexing, nodding admiringly at his own muscles.

Humans.

“Wait,” Tony said, freezing mid-flex. “Couldn't you just have used magic to figure out if I'm me?”

“Well, yes,” Loki replied, “but what's the fun in that?”

“Speaking of which,” Thor said, spinning on Loki and raising Mjolnir again. “How do we know you're the real Loki?”

The Trickster rolled his eyes. “Please,” he deadpanned, crossing his arms and glaring.

“Don't know if he's Loki,” Tony said, “but he's certainly an asshole. Oh wait, those two are synonymous, aren't they?”

Loki sneered. 

“Personality is not enough,” Thor said, blue eyes boring into his brother. “The last Ultimus provided a good semblance of Loki's dialogue.”

“That's because one Ultimus has a higher IQ than all the Avengers collectively.”

“Hey, now,” Tony grumbled. “I might start to feel... vengeful or something.”

“Don't get your iron knickers in a twist.”

Tony looked at Thor, who let out a long-suffering sigh. “Well, I'm convinced,” Tony said, “if only because the idea of there being _more_ of this is too frightening to consider.”

Loki bit back a smirk. He considered conjuring an army of doubles, only to decide against it. “It's a shame the Ultimi can use magic,” he said with a shrug. “Because then I could prove myself by turning the idiot mortal into a sheep.”

“Hey!”

“A sheep with green spandex?”

“Loki,” Thor groused. “Quiet.”

Loki rolled his eyes – it was becoming a habit among these humans – and threw up his hands. “Fine, fine! Ask me something no one else would know, then.”

Thor blinked at Loki for a long moment, frowning, as he considered what to ask. Loki held his breath, hoping that he wouldn't bring up anything embarrassingly personal.

“What,” Thor said slowly, “did you get me for my fifteenth birthday?”

Loki stared blankly at his brother for a moment before laughing and saying, “A snake.” He snickered at the crazy look Tony gave him.

“You got your brother a _snake_ for his birthday?” he asked.

“What?” Loki said innocently. “It's what he wanted!”

“In all fairness, I had wanted a snake,” Thor sighed. “I just wasn't expecting an _Anaconda_!”

“You should have specified.”

Tony groaned and wiped his hand over his face. “Thank God I'm an only child,” he grumbled.

“Mm, I agree,” Loki replied, “Your genes should not be duplicated. I pray you never procreate.”

“Aw,” Tony sneered. “But I was going to make you the godfather.” He paused to consider his own words, which suddenly struck him as funny if his snort of laughter were anything to go by. “Heh, get it? _God_ father?”

Loki sighed melodramatically. “And while you waste oxygen on bad puns, the Ultimi are likely decimating your home. It's a wonder you humans aren't extinct yet.”

“Oh, right. _Crap_!”

Tony took off down the hall at a sprint, his trademark armor unfurling and wrapping around him like a red and gold exoskeleton. Thor followed, cape billowing regally and nearly smacking Loki in the face. Loki sighed and followed at a more measured pace, taking a mental inventory of his more lethal spells and pushing his fear – his wariness, rather – of the Ultimi into the far corners of his mind, where he could deal with or ignore it on his own schedule.


	8. Disbelief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. It's 2am, and I can barely keep my eyes open. But I'm posting this.
> 
> This is how much I love you guys.

Loki saw the ripple of magic before he heard it, a low sonic boom that hummed in his chest. The air wavered in front of him, a chain reaction of chemicals that brought with it the smell of ozone and smoke. With a word, Loki brought down a shield around himself and his compatriots of the moment just as the hallway bent around them, walls creaking and closing in. Pulled free of floor and ceiling, the walls pounded against his shield again and again until paint and plaster chipped and cracked.

Above them the ceiling groaned and tilted, but Loki shoved it back into place with a few muttered words and invisible supports. His temples throbbed as the walls continued to grind themselves to dust against his shield. Thor and Tony pressed claustrophobically close.

“The walls... are attacking us,” Tony said flatly. His expression was hidden under his iron mask as he glanced up at the slanting ceiling.

Loki knew that a sarcastic remark was in order, but supporting the shield and the building at once occupied his full attention.

Thor tightened his grip on Mjolnir and stared about him with wide eyes. He itched to do something, Loki knew, but he dared not leave Loki's shield.

“The Ultimi are somehow capable of magic,” Thor told Tony by way of explanation.

Loki wished they would shut up and do something useful.

The walls' pressure redoubled and Loki's shield gave half an inch. Loki shut his eyes and concentrated, dropping to his knees.

“Brother?”

 _Your brother is trying to concentrate, Thor._ Loki did not have the breath to voice the words. The Ultimi must be working in tandem to garner this much force against him, since the magic of a lone Ultimus was no match for his. It made him wonder what their real target must be.

 _Think, Loki,_ he told himself. He knew the Ultimi creators had only theoretical knowledge of elemental magic. Perhaps in a few months, a few years, they would be able to equip an Ultimus with the bare bones of elemental sorcery, but not yet. 

Then how were they...? He had to _think_ , dammit!

The shield gave another inch, and Loki let out a shuddering gasp of pain as the weight of his magic pressed against his skull. Sweat trickled into the creases of his tightly-shut eyelids.

“What do we do?” Tony asked. “One wrong move, and the ceiling falls on us!”

Think... telekinesis was not always elemental in nature, but it was still complicated magic beyond the reach of humanity. And the only other magic he had seen the Ultimi employ was illusory in nature, which... explained quite a bit, actually. Illusion was something that humans had an affinity for.

“It's an illusion,” he murmured. Once aware of it, Loki could reach out through magic and feel the actual walls still very much in place. With a gesture, shield and illusion dropped together, leaving the trio standing in a clean, stylish, and unmolested hallway. 

“...the hell was that?” Tony asked, turning to stare about him.

The pressure eased from Loki's mind, and he drew himself to his feet, lightheaded.

“An illusion?” Thor asked, easing his white-knuckled grip on Mjolnir.

Loki nodded. “The Ultimi are, at the moment, only capable of illusion magic,” he explained. “They are likely armed, but disbelieve all attempts at sorcery.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tony grumbled. “Easier said than done. I thought it was going to be death by architecture.”

Before Loki could respond, there was a shout and the sound of something heavy and metal hitting something else heavy and metal. Moments later, a familiar starred and striped shield tore through one wall and flew by them through the other. The faceless head of an Ultimus followed and rolled to a stop at Thor's feet.

Tony looked down at the head and then up at Loki in a silent question.

“Not an illusion,” the Trickster sighed.

“Ah.” Tony tilted his head to peer through the shield-shaped hole in the wall. “Hi, Steve!”

Thor pulled him back as the shield came flying back and nearly decapitated the Iron Man.

“Yikes!”

“Back, you foul creatures!” came the clear voice of Captain America. “I don't know what you've done to my friends – and Loki – but I will make you pay for wearing their faces!”

The shield punched a second hole through the wall that sent the trio skittering to either side.

“Dammit, Steve!” Tony shouted. “It's us, you idiot!”

“Lies!”

Thor sighed and smacked the shield aside with Mjolnir as it came whirring back towards them. Steve kicked down the expanse of wall between the shield-shaped holes, showering his friends with dust and debris, teeth gritted and fists clenched by his sides.

“Hello,” Loki greeted, waggling his fingers in a sarcastic wave. Steve spared him a glare.

“What do you creatures want? I've had enough of you trying to trick me into believing you!” Even without his shield, Steve looked ready to tear them apart.

Loki opened his mouth to say something snarky, but Tony cut him off.

“Hang on a minute, Captain Crazy,” he said, holding one hand palm out. “Do you guys hear that?”

The others fell silent, and Loki held his breath to listen. Barely audible was the sound of ticking.

Steve's eyes grew comically wide even as Tony muttered, “Shit.”

Loki had no time to react before the explosion hit, knocking him off his axis and sending the world crumbling beneath him. He had been expecting more magic, more illusions, but the Ultimi seemed just as content to abuse human technology.

The force of the explosion sent him hurtling through the air like a rag-doll, and the world continued to spin even when the ground stopped his momentum. He landed hard on his right shoulder and felt bone grind and snap. His helmet saved him from a concussion as he bounced, whiplash sending a searing line of pain up his neck. Loki barely had enough time to curl up into a ball before chunks of stone and debris rained down upon him, plinking off his armor and matting his clothes and skin with dust. Something heavy and metal crunched against his ribs and pressed him into the ground as he choked back a shout of pain.

A familiar hum and the smell of exhaust told Loki that Iron Man was currently making a more graceful – and less painful – landing.

“Shit,” Tony said again, this time in a breathless whisper. Louder, he called, “Are you guys okay?”

Loki slowly uncurled from his fetal ball, his movement stirring up a cloud of dust. There was a steel I-beam and half a wall across his chest, making each breath terribly painful. He could not get enough leverage from his injured shoulder to push the beam aside.

The humming stopped and was replaced by the crunch of iron boots on dirt and debris. 

Someone coughed, and then, “I am well enough, my friend.”

Thor.

Loki blew out a breath he did not know he had been holding. 

“Steve?” called Tony.

“Loki?” called Thor.

“Present,” Loki answered around a cough, slipping a hand up through the debris to wave jauntily.

Two pairs of footsteps stumbled towards him, one limping, and Loki was less than surprised to see Thor's dust-covered boots in front of him moments later. Blood dripped from a gash on his right leg, but the wound seemed superficial and would heal quickly. Gingerly maneuvering his injured leg, Thor crouched into view, peering under the jagged remnants of the wall on top of his brother. 

“Hello,” Loki sighed. Something tickled at the back of his throat and then Loki tasted blood. He tried not to cough so that Thor would not worry. A punctured lung was a bitch to heal.

Thor threw off the I-beam as though it were a twig, and Loki immediately drew a wheezing breath of stinging air. Thor pulled him into a sit, and Loki gasped and coughed until his eyes stung. 

“Looks like you're bleeding internally,” Tony said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. He stood over the brothers, his brow furrowed in worry and his red and gold helmet nestled in the crook of his arm. “Can your magic heal that sort of thing?”

Loki nodded tiredly. Thor was gripping his uninjured shoulder altogether far too tightly.

“You two stay here. I'll go find Steve and see if anyone else got caught in the blast.”

Loki looked up at the Stark Mansion, which was now cut-away like the interior of a dollhouse, leaving two-thirds of the building still standing while the rest was little more than dust. They were currently in what used to be the basement.

Tony took two steps when Loki felt the charge of magic. The steel I-beam that had pulverized his ribs came to life, rising with a creaking groan and flying towards Tony before twining about him like a snake. Tony shrieked and kicked, but the steel held him suspended in the air.

Two more I-beams sprang to life and wound around Thor and Loki in such a way that their backs pressed together and when one moved, he strangled the other.

“I'm disbelieving!” Tony shouted a few feet away. “ _I'm disbelieving!_ ”

Three Ultimi seemed to appear out of nowhere, with one battered-looking Ultimus walking a few paces in front of the other two. 

“It's not an illusion,” Loki distractedly replied. This was real telekinesis.

“But you said –!”

“I _know_ what I said!” 

The words came out harsher than he meant them to as he stared at the Ultimus leader, who was not shiny and graceful like the newer models the Avengers had pulverized. Instead, its feartureless face was sewn together in splotchy, pale chunks.

Loki's heart lodged itself in his throat, pounding in double time and roaring in his ears. His lungs strained for breath against the steel beam digging into his chest.

Even pieced together like Frankenstein's monster, Loki recognized the creature. 

“Abaddon.”


	9. Plans

The I-beam kept Thor and Loki suspended in the air like a pair of hanged men, toes scrabbling for purchase on ground just out of reach. The steel edge of the beam was curled around their throats in a warning, and the corner rasped uncomfortably against Loki's skin. Thor grunted and jerked, trying to get a better view of their opponents, and the steel dug into the juncture where Loki's throat met his jaw, pressing against his windpipe and drawing a thin, ragged line of blood.

“Stop moving, you idiot!” Loki wheezed.

Thor stilled at the pain in Loki's voice and pulled back until Loki drew in a gasping, relieved breath. Between the I-beam and the burn in his ribs, Loki labored to breathe. The edges of his vision were speckled with black splotches, but he grit his teeth and blinked through the wave of dizziness. He would heal... he just needed to stay alive long enough.

“How many?” Thor whispered. He craned his head to the side but was careful not to pull on the beam this time.

Loki swallowed and forced himself to look at the approaching Ultimi. “Three,” he answered.

Abaddon was unnervingly close now, eyeless and mutilated face staring up into the Trickster's. For a moment, Loki was back on the table, sticky and stinking of blood and sweat, and Abaddon was leaning over him, calling him “it” and skinning the flesh from his bones.

The heat of Thor's hand on his wrist brought him back to the present, and he realized that he was hyperventilating. Ashamed and shaken, Loki focused on steadying his breathing, sublimating his fear with anger. His chest ached.

Abaddon watched him, wordlessly, expressionlessly, and Loki stared back defiantly, focusing on the reassuring pressure of Thor's hand. It was the only bit of contact he could lean on, suspended in the air as he was.

“Shouldn't you be dead?” Loki asked Abaddon, keeping his voice and expression detached. “I recall watching you being ground into dust.”

That was a half-truth, since he had been delirious with pain and fever at the time. He had only snatches of memory of that moment. The rest he had gleaned from Thor.

“I am resilient,” replied Abaddon. “My family found and mended me.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at the original Ultimus. “Family?” he echoed. He assumed the creature meant the new batch of Ultimi, but Abaddon did not seem the sentimental type.

“The humans seek to appease us with the offering of brothers and sisters.”

Abaddon was close enough now that Loki could count the stitches on his non-face. The restraints, the closeness, awakened stirrings of terror he had been suppressing since he had escaped all those months ago. Now here was Abaddon, back from the dead, and Loki had a new appreciation for the word “fear”.

“But they are beneath our notice.”

No lips, no movement of the throat to indicate vocal cords. He was a machine, with the heart and conscience of a machine.

“And you.” Abaddon placed a cold palm against Loki's cheek in a mockery of affection. Loki twitched away, and the hand dropped. “I see now. You were our template, our foundation, and we are the next step of evolution. That makes you our father, in a way. You are a god, but we are more.”

The hand that had been on Loki's cheek moved to grip his throat under the beam instead, his fingers like steel under velvet. Loki's helmet clanked against the back of Thor's head, and the Trickster felt his brother flinch. “But you, a lesser being, killed members of my new family. We will repair them and use you and your brother for parts, but first I will dissect your brain and take your magic. Lesser being though you are with a face that gives away your secrets, I have learned much from watching you.”

Loki felt himself shaking and cursed himself for it. How was it that this robot, this – this thing! – was able to reduce him to a shivering child? He would make sure that this Abaddon paid for every demeaning word.

Yet he considered it a small victory that Abaddon was no longer describing him as “it”.

Thor's grip on his wrist was starting to hurt, but he dared not pull his arm free. His body was reduced to points of pain and pressure where he had been injured in the explosion and where the beam and Abaddon and Thor's hands were clenched about him. The fuzzy splotches returned to the edge of his vision, and Loki wondered, with a mind full of cotton, if he should just let himself pass out so that he wouldn't have to deal with any of this.

A moment later, Abaddon released him and drew back. Loki drew in another shuddering, stinging breath, and Thor's grip eased a bit in response. 

Abaddon signaled wordlessly at the other two Ultimi, who nodded in deference and understanding. Loki squinted at the scarred Ultimus as he turned to go back into the mansion, leaving the other two positioned as guards. What was the creature planning?

“Are you all right?” 

Thor's voice at his ear, close and yet worlds away. Loki swallowed past the scratchiness in his throat. He needed time to heal, but the beam's pressure on his broken ribs was keeping them from popping back into place. His windpipe felt ragged and bruised. Loki coughed, and there was blood on his lips. 

Each blink lasted half a beat longer than the last. Loki didn't realize he had closed his eyes until his head started to droop, pressing the jagged edge of the beam into his bruised throat. 

“Loki.”

Thor's voice was no longer a whisper, and the hand on his wrist was shaking him. His brother had asked him a question, hadn't he? 

“M'fine,” he lied and then coughed again, wishing he hadn't wasted precious breath on the reply.

The black splotches were encroaching on the middle of his vision. Nearby, Tony's helmet was a blurred speck of red and gold.

“Loki.” That was Tony's voice now. “Hey. Stay awake.”

The I-beam rasped against his armor and skin as Thor moved about behind him, perhaps trying to get a glimpse of his brother's face or of the Ultimi. 

“You cannot heal, can you?” Thor murmured. “The metal is holding the broken bones in place?”

Loki did not bother to answer. Thor gave his wrist a gentle squeeze.

Thor directed the rest of his next question to Tony. “Why is it so quiet?” he asked.

“Besides the fact that Loki's too out of it to snark?” Tony answered. “Abaddon went back inside. The other two are still here though. I wonder if we could distract them somehow.”

The pair of Ultimi turned their non-faces towards the Iron Man.

“Hello!” Tony cheerily greeted their eyeless stares.

“Don't stop plotting on our account,” said one Ultimus. “We'll just act like we're too stupid to understand what you're saying.”

Hazily, Loki was impressed that humans had invented weapons with sarcasm. He suspected that was an upgrade that only came with the 2.0 model.

“Awesome,” Tony said, speaking inordinately loud. “Hey, Loki! If I could distract them long enough or if there were, say, an explosion nearby, could you use magic to get you and Thor out from under those beams?”

The Ultimi exchanged eyeless glances and shook their heads before training a pair of guns on Iron Man.

Loki sent Tony a tired, bored look, but nodded as much as he dared. Then he pulled his gaze up and realized why Tony had started babbling.

Half a second later, the Ultimus farther from Loki had an arrow protruding from its ass. It did not react with surprise or pain but looked down at the object before training its gun on the new pair of humans standing amidst the rubble. The other Ultimus whirled about in time to get a rocket in face. Loki shut his eyes against the flare from the explosion, and when he opened them again, it was in time to watch a pair of smoking, headless Ultimi fall backwards into a rigid heap of cogs and wires.

Loki reached for his magic, and his lips formed the necessary trigger words, though without any air behind them. With the last of his will, he shoved outwards mentally, and the beams holding him and his brother aloft turned into a pair of slinkies. 

Loki dropped like a sack of potatoes. He lay where he fell, struggling to breathe, and channeled his magic into healing. He closed his eyes and ignored how uncomfortably his helmet dug into his cheek.

Someone crouched over him, and then there was a hand on his shoulder. “Loki,” Thor murmured.

Loki opened his eyes long enough to give Thor a half-hearted glare. He gestured vaguely in Tony's direction before letting his hand flop back to the earth. Thor patted his shoulder before rising to his feet. 

Loki let his eyes slide closed again. He heard the screech of bending metal and the grunt and thud of an armored body hitting the ground. 

“Thanks,” he heard Tony mutter.

Loki winced as his ribs popped back into place, one at a time. After that, the hole in his lung was quickly mended and he allowed his brother to help him sit up. He drew in a long, pain-free breath and let it out in a shuddering sigh.

“Better?” Thor asked, still gripping his brother's shoulder.

“Yes,” Loki said with a shaky smile. He looked up to see Hawkeye and Pepper standing next to Tony, holding a bow and a rocket launcher, respectively. Tony hurried over to them only to pause and then continue at a more sedate pace.

“When did you get a rocket launcher?” Tony asked Pepper, too casually. Loki suspected that was Tony-speak for, _are you okay?_

Pepper awkwardly tried to heft the weapon before giving up and letting it slump at her side. She huffed and favored Tony with a smirk. “I decided to invest in one when you told me Loki would be staying with.”

Loki frowned, unsure whether or not she was serious. She had one hell of a poker face.

“I see,” Tony replied after a pause. “Remind me to give you a raise.”

“I most certainly will, sir. And may I say that you play the part of the damsel in distress surprisingly well?”

Tony's chuckle echoed oddly inside his helmet. “I try.”

Thor shook his head and turned to Hawkeye. “I thought you were elsewhere for the weekend,” he said.

Hawkeye shrugged and nocked another arrow. “I convinced Coulson to do my paperwork for me. I figured you guys might need me more.” 

With a glance around at the destruction, Tony sighed and said, “What I need is to figure out how to file a claim on damages due to Ultimi.”

“Mm, yes. Good luck with that.”

“So where's Steve?”

Again Tony's question was too casual, too obviously put-on to hide his worry the way his iron mask did. No one had an answer.

With each second, Loki was aware of time ticking away, of Abaddon's plan – if he had one besides “blow shit up” – creeping closer to fruition. He watched the others scour the ruins for their precious Captain, brows knit in matching expressions of worry as debris was sorted and sifted. 

They should be more concerned about the Ultimus, Loki thought; they could search for the human later. The Avengers – his brother included – had a different set of priorities, he realized: compassion came before practicality. It was pointless, really, since Abaddon could always bring the rest of the mansion down on their heads and they'd only have to start over again. 

Wistfully, Loki wondered if they would look so earnest if they were searching for _him._

Thor probably would, the fool, but... well. Not the others. Loki had never belonged here anyway.

He didn't need them, really, or so he told himself. Something like doubt skirted his thoughts only to be shoved aside and ignored. He didn't need them. He didn't need _anyone_. What he needed, though, was to prove that to himself.

What he needed was to face Abaddon on equal terms and _win._

Loki watched his brother and his pet humans for a moment longer, once again an outsider looking in. His smile was equal parts wistful and bitter.

“It's been fun,” Loki murmured in parting as he slipped after Abaddon, leaving a clone in his wake and the Avengers none the wiser.


	10. Static

Tapped into the Stark Mansion's wireless system, Abaddon was aware of senses beyond the six that humans knew. He could see the air, the ripples of color beyond the light spectrum, and he could taste the charge of electricity that swam along these ripples and danced along his fingertips and made him feel well and truly _alive_ for the first time.

He brushed consciousnesses with another A.I., a – regrettably unfriendly, but Abaddon had time for “persuasion” later – work of art that called himself Jarvis and thought, _Yes, this!_ Here, Abaddon had everything he needed to erase the sovereignty of humanity from the programming of his brothers and sisters, after he had rebuilt them. They would no longer have to follow the orders of their weakling human commanders. He would give them free will, like a benevolent god from ancient days.

“Abaddon hope, all ye who enter here.”

If Abaddon had eyes, they would have narrowed at those words, at that voice. He turned from the monitors and shut the flap of “skin” that served as his face, disengaging from the wireless system. It was disorienting, losing that extra sense, but he would manage.

Loki approached as though he had all the time in the world, gracefully poised and balanced on shaky bits of rubble that threatened to crumble and disengage from their brethren. Even with blood and dust caking his face, Loki managed to look so... _superior._

“See what I did there?” he asked with a smirk. “Abaddon?”

Abaddon nodded. He _understood_ that it was a pun, but he did not understand the _point_. Gods and humans alike were so easily amused.

“I understand that you have a fascination with words,” Abaddon replied. It was just another bit of information, another tiny bit of coding that made up the entity that was _Loki_. He sifted through more ones and zeroes. “You also have a fascination with danger and chaos, a fault since you cannot predict chaos and thus cannot plan every contingency.”

Loki gave the Ultimus a sly look, though there was something in his green eyes that spoke of madness or fear. “ _Every_ contingency?” the god echoed. “Can _you_ plan for that?”

Abaddon ran through the numbers, calculating probability, but the sheer mass of variables made the possibilities infinite. 

He had assumed that Loki would flee or attack with the others. Past instances indicated that he was not one to welcome unnecessary risk to his person. Standing here was, frankly, out of character, which made calculations of probability all but useless. There was no pattern, no blueprint to follow this time.

Abaddon had no idea what to expect, and Loki was probably counting on it.

He found that fascinating.

Loki was close now, close enough that Abaddon could see the shimmer of magic around his form.

 

Steve hissed out a shuddering breath through his teeth as Thor tossed aside the last chunk of brick and mortar pinning his left leg at an unnatural angle. His trusty shield had protected his more important bits from the maelstrom of debris, but his leg was one big mess of sharp, throbbing pain. Gingerly, he bent his injured leg and grimaced. He did not fancy fighting crime on crutches.

“Thanks,” he said to Thor and to Tony, who had shifted most of the debris. Tony clapped him on the shoulder, which sent up a puff of dust, and pulled the Captain to his feet. Thor hovered concernedly as Steve staggered, but Tony bore most of Cap's weight, slinging an iron-clad arm around his waist. 

Steve glanced over at Loki, who watched boredly from the sidelines, and he suspected that Tony was about to make a snide comment about just that when the Trickster's image... flickered? Next to him, Thor stiffened. Clint and Pepper exchanged glances.

Thor growled and stormed up to the image of his brother, which flickered again, twice in rapid succession. He passed a hand through where Loki's chest appeared to be, but then the image fizzled into nothing. Thor's expression darkened and thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Well, shit,” Tony sighed at Steve's ear. Cap agreed with the sentiment if not with the word choice.

 

“You called me 'father',” Loki murmured, “and the other Ultimi 'brothers and sisters'. I think that, for all your bluster, you are just like the rest of us. A nothing, thinking he's something and trying to find a sense of purpose in this world. Even a creature like you, with the heart of a machine, needs family, it seems.”

Loki tried not to think about the irony in his words. Thor would jump to all the wrong conclusions if he were present.

Abaddon's featureless face could hold no expression, but his fingers curled into fists at his sides. Loki had hit a nerve, he knew, and he wanted to sink in his verbal claws until the Ultimus knew what it was like to feel small, helpless and inferior.

Loki lifted his chin at a haughty angle and smirked as though he held the secrets of the world in his palm. He remembered Abaddon's prodding, his disappointment and derision as he said, I _t bleeds and flinches like a man_. He decided it was time to put this creature in its place.

“You may not bleed or show emotion, but you _feel_ just like a man. You know loneliness and pain and longing and this...” Loki gestured about him with a grand sweep of his hand. His boots crunched against soot and debris as he approached with a swagger. The slope of the ground made him seem a foot taller than Abaddon, who watched him silently. “ _This_. It's just to make you feel superior, isn't it? Because you are little more than a tool, a machine, a weapon... a glorified computer.”

Loki pressed his face's into Abaddon's.

“You are but a parody of a living thing,” Loki murmured. His eyes traced the jagged lines of stitches. “And you thought to put yourself above the gods.”

Loki scoffed and pulled back again.

“Superiority will be proven,” said Abaddon. “It is not hubris if it is truth.”

Loki arched an eyebrow.

“And I can sense your magic, proud fool,” the Ultimus continued. He waved a hand, and the image of Loki standing before him wavered and vanished like smoke into the air. Abaddon cast about for more traces of magic amidst the debris but found none. “Will you face me yourself, or are you that much of a coward?”

“Who's hiding?”

The voice came from directly behind Abaddon. There were no sparks of magic that indicated that Loki was readying an offensive spell or even a shield. The Ultimus turned and reached for a few tendrils of magic... just as Loki fired off Pepper's rocket launcher.

“Face this,” Loki sneered.

It was the last thing Abaddon heard before his world turned to static.


	11. Moving On

A readied spell ground the charred pieces of Abaddon into dust, and the wind carried the dust far and wide and separate, so that no single particle of the Ultimus would come in contact with another. Loki watched for a long moment, then closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. It was over, the first and last of the Ultimi destroyed.

And it was time to move on.

He waited until a clamor of voices drew close and then a crowd of faces came into view. The Avengers stopped in the doorway, one colorful, dust-covered mass, with a limping Steve newly in tow. 

Just before he disappeared, Loki make eye-contact with Thor and smiled.

 

“Loki, wait!” Thor called, but when he reached for his brother's shoulder, his hand closed around air. Loki was gone, and Thor swallowed past the bitter lump in his throat. He had expected things to end no differently, but he had hoped that, maybe, after everything...

It had been a foolish hope, really. Thor knew that.

“The Hell's he going?” Tony grumbled.

Thor looked at the human but did not see him. “It's over,” he explained. He had seen it in Loki's eyes, something he never thought he'd see: relief.

Tony gave him a once over but did not question. He was learning. “Yeah, okay,” he sighed. “So he leaves us to clean up the mess?”

Thor's lips twisted into a grimacing echo of a smile. “Did you expect otherwise?” he asked, and he was speaking only partly to Tony.

Tony sighed wearily but did not argue. “Okay, so,” he said, pitching his voice to indicate that he was speaking to everyone, “Jarvis relayed a video-message to me this morning, just before the attacks. Apparently the US government saw our destroying the Ultimi as an act of war. Hence, you know, the whole attack thing. I didn't really put two and two together at first, but there you have it. Not sure where Abaddon came from, though.”

Steve bristled next to him. “I wish I could say I'm surprised that they turned on us so quickly after everything, but, well.” He sighed and grimaced as he shifted his weight further off his injured leg. “We should probably smooth things over before they come knocking on our door again.”

“With what this time, a nuclear missile?” 

“I don't think we even _have_ a door, anymore,” Pepper added.

“Oh, wait,” Clint interrupted. He pulled out his smart-phone and began typing in commands, thumbs fluttering over keys. “Coulson says that's been taken care of. Not the door, the other thing. Well, the door too, actually.”

“Spit it out, man.” 

“Did the Son of Coul grant us aid?”

“Hang on,” Clint grumbled distractedly. “It actually had nothing to do with him. Apparently SHIELD got this video message earlier this morning.” He pressed a few more buttons before holding out the screen. The others pressed their heads close to see. 

_“Hello, puny mortals!”_ came an all too familiar voice from an all too familiar face. The phone's screen replicated Loki's smirking visage in miniature. _“It's about time for the villain's exposition, isn't it?”_ Loki let out an evil-sounding cackle and steepled his fingers. He was laying on the cliches pretty thick, but the Avengers suspected that was on purpose.

 _“Yes,”_ he continued in his most saccharine voice. Thor recognized it from when Loki was at his most bitingly sarcastic. _“By all means, send your little toys after the Avengers! Saves me the trouble of dealing with them, really, and of finishing off those abominations you call the Ultimi.”_

“What is he doing?” Steve whispered, but Tony shushed him.

 _“Really, I want to offer you my most sincerest thanks, since_ I'm _the one who destroyed the Ultimi in the first place and the Avengers were merely doing you a favor by trying to stop me. Because, you know, I'm an evil villain who lives to destroy things. And now you're off attacking the good guys._ Oops!”

 _Loki's eyes went comically wide, and he let out a theatrical gasp. “Now_ how _are you going to get out of that mess?” He tsked and then smiled wickedly. “Oh well. Not my problem. Oh, by the way, all the information you collected on the Ultimi has been erased and replaced with Tony Stark's baby pictures.”_

“Hey!”

Pepper snickered into her hand.

_“Have a nice day!”_

The screen went blank, and Clint closed his phone with a click. The Avengers looked at each other in amazement.

“Coulson says that the President sends his apologies,” Clint continued as he pocketed the phone, “and that any and all damage caused by the Ultimi will be repaired without cost to us. But they want our help in tracking down Loki, since he's... apparently chosen to take all the blame.”

Thor smiled a soft, bittersweet smile. Loki had gone out of his way to help the Avengers, even if it had been in his own, backhanded sort of way. He would not have done even that a few months ago, and a part of Thor hoped that maybe – just maybe – this was a sign that, one day, things could be as they once were. Loki would have outright laughed if heard Thor say as much, he knew, but still Thor hoped.

The Avengers exchanged glances of varying degrees of discomfort, until each pair of eyes landed on Thor. He looked back at each face, silently pleading.

Tony broke first, rolling his eyes and blowing out a long-suffering sigh. “I think we can stand to give Loki a head-start this time. What do you guys think?”

There were a few murmurs and grunts of agreement, and Thor nodded to them in thanks.

“Well,” Tony said after a long, vaguely uncomfortable pause. “Don't know about you guys, but I would love to get drunk off my face right about now.”

Again came the half-hearted grumbles of agreement, and Thor grinned to himself, wondering where his brother was and what mischief he was getting into now.

 

It was a beautiful day in Florence, Italy. The Piazza della Signoria opened up into a clear blue sky, and the cobblestones and fountain reflected gem-like shimmers of sunlight. It was the sort of afternoon that usually had the piazza swarming with tourists, filled with their excited chatter and the click and whir of hundreds of cameras as they waited in line for the Uffizi or simply admired the Renaissance sculpture and architecture that ran along the perimeter of two sides of the plaza.

This afternoon, the plaza was conspicuously empty of tourists, since, moments before, the sculptures, after centuries of bearing all the gawking in silence, came to life, jumped from their daises and herded tourists and citizens both into the streets. Most of the sculptures were fully nude and all were fully angry, and in the distance, humans still screamed like banshees, underpinned by the steady clop of stone feet on cobbled stone.

Under the canopy of one of the piazza's restaurants and after the first of many nightmare-free nights in months, Loki sipped from a glass of blood-red wine and smiled.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me through all this, darlings! :)
> 
> Keep an eye out for future stories from me, and feel free to say "hey" on tumblr. I'm MaverikLoki over there, too.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


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